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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352367">it had to start somewhere, right?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno/pseuds/jeeno'>jeeno</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming of Age, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Stiles Stilinski Has ADHD, Unrequited Love, no mention of the supernatural, overuse of the words sometimes and maybe, sorry i just forgot to include that so i guess scott's human or something</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:55:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno/pseuds/jeeno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s desperate at this point, to get Scott to focus back on him for once. It’s been a little too long since Stiles has woken up to Scott sprawled out all over him, warm breath ghosting on the crook of his neck. Stiles needs this back. So he has to do whatever he can do to just get Scott to fucking pay attention to him again, for gods sake.</p><p> </p><p>--<br/>Basically Scott hasn't been spending enough time with Stiles for his liking. He's also subtly violent about it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it had to start somewhere, right?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started with puberty, as far as Stiles could remember. Scott and him had just gotten back from their middle school and already were in position in front of the small TV, controllers in hand. They were playing some shooting game and Stiles kept losing over and over again. At first it had been because Scott had just found a special gun and thought it would be a good idea to test it on Stiles, but not long after his mind started drifting off again. It always did that. Drift off. It was especially bad during tests, oh god what is this language? But maybe--no. This is definitely it. His adderall dosage needed to get upped. That's what it was.</p><p>Because all of a sudden the video game wasn't so interesting. Stiles wasn’t really competitive in nature, so it was easy to let losing go but he found his eyes constantly looking to the side. No, not quite. He wasn’t watching the video game so much as he was watching his best friend from his peripheral vision. </p><p>Scott had this thing about staring. He could just tell when someone was looking at him, it was a superpower, Stiles could have sworn. So no, he didn’t look at how muscular Scott started looking, how his arm hair started to darken and lengthen, how broad his shoulders were becoming. They were only thirteen, no, Stiles was only thirteen. Scott just had his birthday a month ago. </p><p>It was a laser tag event, real fun for the fourteen year old, not for the meek, small, thirteen year old. But that's not the point. Scott was barely older than Stiles, really. So why, all of a sudden, was Scott so… manly? Stiles sure wasn’t, he was still barely 5’4 and had been since, like, 6th grade. Has it really been that long? Geez, when was he going to grow? But god, Scott was like, tall, tall. He was probably already 5’7. His voice had already started to deepen an octave or two and it made Stiles’ stomach flutter. Damn adderall. </p><p>But the faint light from the TV made Scott’s features all sharp and finely cut. Like a diamond, or, like a greek statue. He was a greek statue. Stiles’ game controller felt heavy in his hands, sweaty, and he needed to wipe his hands on something. Scott’s right there, just wipe your hands on his nice, broad, muscular shoulders. Yeah, that's a better idea than the acrylic carpet laden with stains and memories. Scott’s graphic tee felt nice under his hands, not near as good as the skin underneath it. God, he wanted it off. But suddenly the scraggly carpet was all up in his face, and wait, why is he on the floor?</p><p>Scott looked over at him, his beautifully toned arms raised, and it dawned on Stiles, Scott had pushed him away. “Dude, why the hell are you groping my shoulders?” He pulled himself off of the floor back into the criss crossed position that they were in before Stiles started all of this. He laid out some excuse of having, what was it? Hyperhidrosis or something. He didn’t have that but Scott didn’t know what that word was, anyway. </p><p>That’s how it all started. </p><p>Three years later, and it's only gotten worse. Scott’s, damn. Scott's hot as hell. When did that happen? Being captain of the lacrosse team really pays off. Having to work out every day and shuck those hard-ass balls into the net all the time. The bruises from missing a couple times are always on some part of Stiles’ body, and he--ugh--he loves it. Don’t let anyone know he likes it or something bad might happen to you. But every night, when his clothes are all over the bathroom floor and he's about to step into the hot shower, his blotchy reflection stares back at him in the mirror. Sometimes he lets the water run for too long and the mirror starts to fog and he has to keep wiping away the condensation to keep staring. His fingers are always tracing along the lines of his collarbone, hip, inner thigh, and even his crotch that one time. He pretends sometimes that instead of bruises being caused by balls--har har, they’re the remnants of Scott’s plush lips, his love bites, anything Scott did to him out of love. He can’t help but pretend, when his best friend somehow became his crush in the time span of a few years. </p><p>Sometimes Scott would blab about some girl or something boring like that. Won’t stop running that pretty mouth of his about some shit-faced girl. Stupid girls, with their stupid double X chromosomes. Why do you guys always got to be living in his best friend's mind? And maybe, once in a while after some girl with nice hair and nice breasts winks at Scott, will Scott ever ask, ‘Hey, do you even know what attraction is?’ which yes, he does, thank you very much, you’re right there. But Stiles will always have to come up with some hypothetical girl with nice blonde, or even red hair. She’ll have all the interests Scott has, too. Every month or so the girl changes but Scott never seems to be interested enough to actually ask for her name. </p><p>Really, Stiles is lucky he doesn’t have to lie <em> that </em> much. But if Scott only knew how many hours Stiles’ dick gets touched with images of Scotts abs, and his dusty pink lips stretched around his cock, he’d probably congratulate Stiles with the award of longest-standing-unrequited-crush in the history of whatever genre that is before eventually dropping Stiles as a friend. </p><p>But there’s this girl who has been stealing Scott away from him. Stealing his time with Scott from him. She’s almost like a parasite, if you look at it. He thinks they’re dating, or something. Always spending time together, her dimples permanently stuck on that stupid little face of hers, makes Stiles want to carve them out with a knife. Or maybe he just wants those dimples for himself. Maybe if he had dimples too, Scott would be all over him like he was with her. And it's been way too long. Maybe a couple months or more and they haven't had their good ‘brotime’ like they used to. Stiles is always there, don’t get him wrong, but he’s always watching from the sidelines, like the perpetual third wheel he is. Which he shouldn't even be, because that’s <em> his </em> Scott. </p><p>And occasionally, Stiles is horny. So what, if Stiles pops a boner every time this new chick, Allison, touches his Scott in a way that only he would? That’s none of their business. He’s become immune after all these months, all those rabidly livid thoughts about strangling, torturing, killing all of Scotts crushes having simmered to a mere boil because of how much he knows there’s nothing he could do about it. </p><p>Goddamn Allison. Shit, maybe even a threesome is in place. In Stiles’ mind at least. She’s not <em> as </em> bad as the other ones, even though he still wants her to get run over or poisoned or something. But she makes Scott’s adorable protective side come out of the dark and leaves this funny feeling in Stiles’ belly, or is it his groin? Who knows. </p><p>He’s desperate at this point, to get Scott to focus back on him for once. It’s been a little too long since Stiles has woken up to Scott sprawled out all over him, warm breath ghosting on the crook of his neck. Stiles needs this back. So he has to do whatever he can do to just get Scott to fucking pay attention to him again, for gods sake.</p><p>He’s got it. He calls it his master plan. He thought about it for approximately one entire night, no sleep. What he needs to do is, befriend this new girl Allison, become best friends with her. No, make her like him in a like-like way. She seems easy enough. And then once she ditches his Scott for him, Scott’s gonna get all like, mad and shit, and <em> have </em>to do something with Stiles. Anything. </p><p>He kind of feels bad for the lovestruck Allison in his head. He won’t like her back, he’s sure of it because, hello? Scott? But he doesn’t feel bad enough to stop this plan right in its tracks. So that’s what he does. </p><p>Allison and him somehow get put together in a group for a chemistry project, and of course she’s too dumb to be dependable. So many goddamn questions. It's good he already knows how to do everything. So they spend time together, a lot in time in fact. Not even doing chemistry anymore.</p><p>He’s in her room, the chemistry book left untouched in his backpack at the doorway, with his hand under her shirt. Her skin’s too soft. Too pale. Not hairy enough. But she likes the feel of his hand, enough that she hasn’t even mentioned dating Scott. That’s a first. </p><p>But they get into it, doing shit that Stiles blocks from his memory because, ew. And she goes to school the next day, smelling like him even with the accessory hickey. And <em> yes </em>, Scott is on him in seconds. He’s got Stiles' frame already slammed against the lockers, thumbs and nails digging into his shoulders, enough to bruise. And Stiles couldn't even be bothered more by it. This is what he wanted, wasn’t it? </p><p>There’s growling, lots and lots of growling, and even tears. Who’s crying, he's not sure. But as soon as it came, it's gone and so is that warm feeling he grew to be addicted to. Back to the bitterness of envy and longing. He’s not sure how, but Scott apparently made plans to come over to his house sometime. Or was it a threat? But the fact that he doesn’t know when, gives Stiles this adrenaline he wished he had all the time. Always glancing at his window, waiting for the chilling gush of wind to come in before Scott’s warmth envelopes him. </p><p>It isn’t until Friday, three days after <em> the </em> incident, does Scott ever come gracefully through his window at the dreary hours of midnight. Stiles wasn't exactly sure even what the hell was happening because Scott was on him in seconds, waking him up with the weight of his body. Scott looks kind of blurry and, wait, he needs to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Scott’s hovering over him with both of his broad hands on the sides of Stiles’ head, the weight pulling Stiles’ head down a little. </p><p>From the looks of it, Scott’s barely even mad anymore. That’s a lie, he still is, but the only thing Stiles knows is, Scotts <em> here. </em> Back in his bed, where he belongs. And he’s looking down at him with those adorable brown eyes and suddenly everything’s okay again. It’s just him and Scott again. </p><p>Scotts saying something, those sultry lips moving without being understood, until he isn't. Stiles kisses him by surprise like his life depends on it. He kisses him tenderly until he pulls away because Scott’s not moving. Why isn’t he moving? </p><p>“What the <em> fuck</em>, Stiles?” Shit. No. He didn’t think about it further than this. Scott was <em> supposed </em> to kiss back and be all like, dude I missed you so much, please, kiss me again I want to be with you forever and get married and have kids somehow--wait how--never mind, but this Scott’s <em> not. </em> And this horrible icy feeling washes over Stiles and he pales even more than humanly possible. </p><p>“I’m sorry--I thought that maybe, maybe we had something, like we always had, remember when we’d play video games? And we’d laugh and sometimes we would fall asleep tangled around each other on the dirty floor, and sometimes we’d even make it to the bed and I’d be awoken by your snores or your moans, wait I shouldn’t be saying this, but the point is, we used to be so close, remember? And you said sometime that if I never found anyone before we graduated high school, that you’d marry me, right? You said that, I’m pretty sure. Or was it a dream? I honestly don’t rem--”</p><p>And there it is again, the familiarity of <em> Scott</em>. His scent, the sweet taste of his saliva, his mouth against his, and his arms circling around him, pulling him in closer until they become one. Scott-motherfucking-McCall is kissing him back. What is this world? And the feeling is so fervent, like Stiles is the oxygen at the water's surface when you’re about to drown. </p><p>They’re kissing, and kissing, and kissing, and everything feels right. It really shouldn’t, but it does, and Scott finally pulls away again and looks at Stiles like he’s his lifeline. “At first, I thought it was just me, but it wasn’t.” And suddenly everything starts coming together. It wasn’t unrequited. Just, kept behind closed doors, locked away because you’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend. And all of Scott's girlfriends suddenly start looking like Stiles, like he’d left a trail of Stiles flavored bread crumbs right to the real thing and. Yeah. They love each other, and they have for a while. All it took was Stiles’ scheming and a little manipulation of innocent girls. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>im not exactly sure what i just wrote.. kind of started writing and eventually stopped 30 mins later. I barely read over this so if theres any mistakes, point them out in the comments so i can fix them for anyone who would want to read this. ALSO IM SORRY BUT I HAVE TO SAY IT: i hate sterek and idk i just think sciles is so cute so ... this was also an experimentation to see where my writing levels were at since its been about 2 years since i last wrote a fic. sorry for oversharing hehe thanks for reading</p><p>also im thinking that writing from stiles pov has rubbed off on me damn it</p></blockquote></div></div>
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